Shipshape
by A Wolf in Cairo
Summary: 'She had sworn to herself she would not slip into bed with Sparrow again; no matter how he would try to tender her, she only wanted her own authority back...' [Jack/Anamaria semi-smut/fluff]


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Shipshape  
  
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She had sworn to herself she would not slip into bed with Sparrow again, certain that loathing would crush the sensation of shocked abandonment when he left yelling mockingly serious phrases of endearment and thanks; irony, or cruelty, had led to him sweeping his hat off in a lordly bow on the shallow deck of her ship. Hate nearly choked her as she screamed a promise to chase him down and cut her payment from his flesh, and three weeks of nightly bedding was viewed as a criminal act in her eyes: she had let fey, devious Jack Sparrow in her life against better judgment, and in return of her trust he had stolen that which she loved more than gold and silver. He had stranded her on Tortuga and she had followed his distinctive trail of whores, outraged politicians, and rumored treasure, until by chance the circle drew to a close in Tortuga again.  
  
Swiftly, Anamaria determined she would take advantage of his arrival, catch him off guard and do everything she could to him. She would slap, shoot, cut, tease him, hurt him until he was forced to cave to her demands; she would do to him what he had done to her, but no matter how he might try to tender her, she only wanted her own authority back. Revenge, too, for his befriending and seducing her, knowing full well that he was merely cozying up to take her livelihood away, stripping her of captainship and piracy in one fell swoop. He would have nothing of hers again.  
  
Damn, she thought sleepily, stretching her slender arms out and staring at the low, flat ceiling. She supposed that explained why she was now his subordinate, much less why that same thieving Sparrow was biting his merry way up the inside of her thigh. A sigh was in order and she did so, reflecting that at least it was *her* bed this time, though his (as captain) was a bit more comfortable. She shivered once, happily, and curved onto her side, tapping her foot on his back.  
  
"Anamaria love," he said absently, voice muffled by the sheets, "it makes it a bit difficult trying to concentrate when you're seducing my back." She rolled her eyes and drew back slightly at the rough scratching of his woven beard as he shifted up to face her. "Not that I'm, hm," he tapped his tapered fingers elegantly on the swell of her breast, "complaining. Much tastier when I've got me own ship." In a very satisfied manner, he drummed his fingers again and pressed his mouth to her neck, tickling her collar with the twin weaves.  
  
"Speaking of ships, Jack," said Anamaria curtly, knotting her dark fingers in his hair and pulling his head back sharply. He smiled innocently at her. "You," she tugged his hair sharply and he winced, still grinning, "have been putting off getting me a new ship. You," another tug and he wriggled slightly, "promised me a better one and I threw my lot in with you; and you damn well know I'm better than half the men on this ship. I want - my - ship." She released his hair, dropping his head to the misshapen pillow and scowling with queenly hauteur at him.  
  
Rolling onto his back, he grinned narrowly at her, gold caps glinting with the faint ghost of moonlight picking through a small crack in the deck. Hair a tangled black mess and kohl smudged darkly around his eyes, Jack looked nearly as simultaneously disheveled and tidy as he did during the day (excepting the bone picks, which she had made sure to remove first); the lack of light might have lent to this perception, as might his leaning forward to nibble at her breast. She smiled slightly and patted his head before grabbing the back of his hair and jerking him aside again; she slapped him, which was more than enough to catch his attention.  
  
He pulled away, rotating his jaw and blinking as his cheeks tightened and he gave her an expression of long-suffering aggravation. "Damned if I'm not getting tired of that," Jack informed the ceiling and casually shifted his leg over her smaller ones. "I'm not much in the support of striking women, as you know," he propped himself up, holding his cheek in an effeminate gesture, tapping his index finger on the swarthy skin below his eye. "But if you keep insulting my integrity with this ship business and insist on slapping me ever' time you get excited about that ship business, I'll be forced to start tossing you over me knee and pounding on your ass."   
  
He lowered his face, nose touching hers and hair (rough beard, cloth, coins, and all) tickling over her chin; she made a face and jabbed her chin out determinedly, giving him a fiercely dangerous glare. Pressing a scratchy and hot kiss to the corner of her mouth, he added pleasantly, "Savvy?"  
  
Anamaria struggled, once, to shove him off, and damned her slight build for proving to be a disadvantage yet again. Instead, she settled for lifting her head from the pillow, dark brown face curving into a prideful sneer, and stated evenly, "I want my ship, you motherless bastard." He had the gall to giggle, eyes rolling slightly and mouth pressing into the hollow of her neck. "Jack," she wriggled to no avail and elicited a theatrical sigh from him in reply, "get the hell off of me, promptly, or I'm taking your pistol and shooting you in the brains with it."  
  
"You wouldn't rather shoot me in the balls?" he asked with deliberate charm, and nudged her leg to the side. He paused, then, and looked to a point above her head with grim reflection. "Most women do, actually," admitted Jack, rubbing his thumb over the whiskers under his lower lip. "Can't understand why, meself; I've been very affectionate with the women of Tortuga." He wrinkled his nose, thoughtfully and apparently reliving certain memories as he rubbed his cheek with a reminiscent shudder.  
  
"And most port towns, to be precise," Anamaria retorted coolly, crossing her arms over her breasts. He glanced fondly at her and nuzzled her forehead happily. "Do not even try to charm your way to freedom, Captain; I want my own ship." She glared affectionately. "I'll serve under you, yes," he snorted merrily and she gave him a sour expression, continuing, "and I'll acknowledge you as captain, but I shan't do it much longer if you won't find me a ship."  
  
Settling an elbow on either side of her face, cupping his chin in one hand and toying, rings flashing silver in the vain moonlight, with her hair, he stuck the tip of his tongue out briefly. "In either scenario, love," he said conversationally, combing the curls from her forehead, "I lose the one woman I've got on board: I get you your delightful little ship and, plop!, you're back at sea, captain of your own vessel and free as a lark; I say no and, boom!, haven't got me a head."   
  
Anamaria raised her eyebrows, trying to wriggle away again and muttering when he grinned nastily, "I won't feel half as whorish when I'm not sharing a bed with you."  
  
  
  
He nodded slowly, and then added in a stage whisper, "If I haven't got your lovely pair of breasts around, I'll be forced to pillage Gibbs of his masculinity." At her reluctant smile, he wrinkled his nose and made a dramatically disgusted face, bending to whisper solemnly, "You can trust my word when I say the man doesn't have the faintest clue on how to go about making love, much less flattering the more pleasurable gender."  
  
  
  
"And I suppose you do," she smiled, her deep accent throwing shadows to her light voice. "Jack, I hope you and Gibbs will be happy together, because I will not stay if the only thing I am staying for is a fey lover who won't stick true to his promises."  
  
Jack looked offended and retorted, "I *am* true to my word, but I can't be blamed, hm? Can't have this," she stiffened when he thrust downward with a wink, "if I let you captain your own ship." He was motionless for a long moment as she hooked her leg around his back out of reflex, bobbing her toes up and down under the sheet. "Although," he added slowly, drawing it out. "I just had this brilliant idea, this – this magnificent theory!" he lifted the arm from her forehead and gestured broadly, eyes gleaming like black diamonds under the smudging clouds of the kohl; "and I think it might be interesting to you, as it's a bit of a wonder; very, very timely. Move your hips a little, love."  
  
Narrowing her eyes at him, she attempted, futilely, to discern what he was thinking. "Why don't you move *your* hips, Jack?" she suggested and uncrossed her arms to wrap one around his neck. "Now, this brilliant idea of yours," she spoke cautiously, almost, voice lilting only a little. "What are the specifics of it?"   
  
He wrinkled his nose at her and, winking absently as he began moving, started airily, "Well, it's rather more of a recollection, if you will, sort of a thing I had mentioned to Barbossa." Scoldingly, Anamaria bit his shoulder sharply and he grinned, lips thin and the corners of his mouth twitching up. "Absolutely delectable when you do that, love, try and make me bleed next; but the point, the point," he lifted his finger and shook it as she made a face, digging her ragged, short nails in the slender muscle near his throat, "the point is, Anamaria, that it's still a ruddy good idea. So hear me - ooo, that was nice, do it again." He smiled slightly and pounded down as she snorted.  
  
"What sort of thing did you have in mind, Jack?" she asked wryly, sliding her other leg around him and quietly threading her fingers in his tangled hair. Arching her hips up, she closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath as he slowly began humming an obscene pirate ditty; he bit sharply along her neck, picking a leisurely, wonderfully painful way up the rich-brown stretch of skin. "I've decided I won't be tossing my lot in with you if I haven't a clue what it is I'm on board to do."  
  
Thankfully, he merely bared his teeth in a grin instead of acting on the sexual jests he most certainly could have found place to fit in. "Of course," he whispered cheerily to the underside of her chin (she obligingly tilted her head back to allow him room), voice sashaying up and down in pitch, "m'mind's a bit muddled, what with that splendidly distracting way your shifting about; the general gist of it, though, being I," he lifted his head and pointed airily to himself once before she caught his head and twisted him to the side, "will become a commodore, being in charge of you, a captain of your own ship, and all the fun little meetings that would entail."  
  
"Rare moment of brilliance, Jack," said Anamaria teasingly, and somehow managed to roll him onto his back, straddling him as she thought it over. "It might be apt enough to work," she wondered aloud, rubbing her hips against his and earning a laugh from him. "Oh, shut up," she cuffed his face and he caught her hand, nibbling once on the lower knuckle of her thumb. "You're unnaturally giddy." She smiled in spite of herself, and then laughed briefly, tilting her head to smile thanks to the ceiling and God (who hopefully was not displeased).  
  
Jack took the opportunity to grope up, patting his hand around for her shoulder and carefully curling his fingers over the smooth curve. "You get what you want, I get what I want, and my luck is starting to sail more or less toward clear waters." He shrugged charmingly, stroking her shoulder as he began arching up, smirking devilishly at her as she smiled lopsidedly right back at him. "See, now - didn't I tell you my word was true?"  
  
"Kindly be quiet," Anamaria snapped, and crushed her mouth savagely to his, ending it with a gentler touch. "And as for my ship," she continued in the same breath.  
  
"Your turn to be quiet," he ordered, and wrapping his arms around her, flipped her back to her back. Burying his face at her breast, he licked and coddled in a most thoughtful manner, fingers creeping down to tickle the rough tips over her belly until she burst into giggles, brown face crinkling with affectionate amusement.  
  
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Finito.  
  
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Notes: It's pointless! Possibly a prologue. And yes, I know it's crap. I gave it an R rating just to be safe, because obviously it isn't very raunchy. Blagh. But some people would've claimed it was R...   
  
Feedback: Flame me. Or, uh, don't. Please?  
  
Disclaimer: Everyone that's anyone is obviously not mine. As you can tell by reading this. 


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